


silver clouds with grey linings

by notquiteaghost



Series: how the mighty fall in love [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Politics, Established Relationship, M/M, Political Scandal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-10 00:54:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notquiteaghost/pseuds/notquiteaghost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras is outed to the papers. This has several repercussions, but he only really cares about working out why Grantaire's so angry with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	silver clouds with grey linings

**Author's Note:**

> this is set in some alternate universe in 1970s england (enjolras gets elected instead of margaret thatcher? idrk). enjolras doesn't live in number 10, but instead shares a flat with grantaire nearby, because he's contrary. apologies for any inaccuracies. 
> 
> title is from 'the phoenix' by fall out boy.

Enjolras is at home, in bed, when the phone rings. 

It's nine AM on a Sunday. Grantaire, sprawled across Enjolras' chest, groans and says, "Please don't tell me you're going to answer that."

"It could be important." Enjolras says, dropping an apologetic kiss into Grantaire's hair. "I'll bring breakfast back to bed with me."

And then he slips out of bed, not bothering to pull on any clothes before he walks into the kitchen and answers the phone. "Hello?"

"May I speak to Enjolras, please?" An unfamiliar voice asks. 

"Speaking." Enjolras says. "What's so important you couldn't call during office hours?"

"I have evidence that you are in a homosexual relationship." replies the man, his tone vaguely threatening, "And I will share my findings with the papers, unless you-"

"Do what you damn well like." Enjolras snaps, not letting the man list his terms. He has no patience for people like this on a Sunday, of all days. "I'm not ashamed, and I definitely won't be blackmailed. Now, if you'll excuse me, I was going to make my boyfriend breakfast." And then he hangs up. 

When he walks back into the bedroom a while later, carrying coffee and toast and bacon, Grantaire pulls him in for a grateful kiss, before asking, "Who was on the phone?"

"Oh, some idiot thinking he could blackmail me." Enjolras dismisses. "I wasn't going to let him ruin my morning."

Grantaire grins. "Quite right too."

-

Tuesday morning, it hits the papers. 

'PM in Homosexual Scandal!' appears to be the favoured headline. The Daily Mail are, yet again, trying to paint him as the devil, but at this point, their already-convinced readership are the only people who still believe them. 

'PM Involved with Mystery Man' is the Guardian's choice, and is more of a speculation on who, exactly, has managed to successfully date Enjolras. There's a reason the Guardian is the only paper Enjolras has bought in five years. They, at least, have their priorities straight. 

And Combeferre is waiting in Enjolras' office when he gets in, holding a stack of broadsheets and looking like he wants to beat Enjolras to a pulp with them. 

"Good morning." Enjolras says, politely, wishing he'd thought to detour to the bakery and buy some sugary piece offering. 

Combeferre glares. "You didn't think to send out a little warning?"

"I forgot." Enjolras admits. "It was early in the morning, I was half asleep, it didn't seem that important-"

" _Didn't seem that important_?" Incredulous, Combeferre stares at him. "Enjolras, these people are making very serious claims, this could ruin you _completely_ -"

"They're not claims." Enjolras interrupts, frowning. "It's true, though the Guardian, so far, has been completely off. I thought you were aware of my sexuality?"

"And I thought you would have had the decency to inform me you're in a relationship, but apparently I was mistaken." Combeferre says coolly, and Enjolras winces. 

"Sorry. It, er. It seemed easiest just to keep it from everyone. Even my mother doesn't know, and you know what she's like."

Combeferre huffs, in equal parts amused and annoyed. "You're forgiven. I reserve the right to be sharp with you for a day or two, Lord knows you deserve it, but you're forgiven."

Enjolras smiles at him weakly, and goes to reply, but is cut off by the door bursting open and Courfeyrac rushing in. 

"Who is he?" He demands. "Who is this man you've been hiding from us for so long? How am I supposed to leak false information to the press if you never tell me the truth?"

"Technically, you aren't supposed to leak false information to the press." Combeferre points out with a wry grin. Courfeyrac waves a hand dismissively. 

"Details, details. Wrong sorts of details, anyway." He points a finger at Enjolras. "Details about your romantic endeavours, now."

"I am not outing him without his permission." Enjolras says, firmly. "I will answer all other questions, but I refuse to reveal his identity."

Courfeyrac sighs. "You're no fun. So be it. Come, we need to prepare an official statement. You can help me find Jehan, I think he's gotten distracted talking to that cleaning girl again..."

-

When Enjolras gets home after the impromptu press conference on Wednesday (officially the worst press conference of his entire career), Grantaire isn't at home. 

That isn't too strange - it's only four, after all, and Grantaire was supposed to be in the studio until five at the earliest. But Grantaire's car keys are on the kitchen counter. Something's wrong. 

Enjolras changes out of his press-friendly suit and into something a little comfier (and the t-shirt may or may not have originally belonged to Grantaire, but it's not as if Grantaire minds), and then he calls Eponine. 

"Is Grantaire with you?" He asks, instead of saying hello. 

"...No." Eponine says, uncertainly. "Why?"

"Because he's not at home, he's not in the studio, and he hasn't told me where he's gone instead."

Enjolras isn't worried. He isn't. He's just in love with a recovering alcoholic, and has a tendency to assume the worst, and knows intimately his recovering alcoholic's relapse patterns, and, okay, maybe he is worried. Just a little bit. 

"Check the cafe?" Eponine suggests. "Or that art shop he likes so much? Or Feuilly's?"

Enjolras sighs. "I suppose I'm going to have to. Leave me a voicemail if he turns up at yours?"

"Will do." Eponine promises, and then hangs up, and Enjolras is left to work out a plan to track down and calm down his probably-relapsing boyfriend. 

And he'd been so looking forward to having dinner together for once...

-

After the press conference that was all of Enjolras' worst nightmares come true, a meeting is held in Courfeyrac and Eponine's living room. 

For once, it's not a political meeting, but a simple gathering of friends, to eat, drink, be merry and interrogate Enjolras about his love life. 

"Can't you please tell us who it is?" Eponine begs. 

Enjolras is sat beside Grantaire on the sofa. After an hour or so of fruitless searching, Enjolras gave up and went home to kill two more hours before making his way to the meeting. Grantaire arrived ten minutes after him, completely sober but somewhat off regardless. Enjolras still doesn't know where he had gone.

No one's remarked upon this, not Grantaire's mood or their seating positions, and Enjolras is actually beginning to doubt his friends' intelligence. Though Combeferre has definitely picked up on something; Grantaire has been in a bad mood all evening, and even though Enjolras has yet to figure out why beyond that it isn't alcohol-related, he has a sinking feeling that it's his fault. 

"It's none of your business." Enjolras repeats. "I don't go around demanding to know intimate details about your personal life."

"It's not like you really need to. It's more that you need to go around demanding that Courfeyrac shut up about the intimate details." Feuilly jokes, to much laughter and a glare from Courfeyrac. 

"But still." Eponine says. "We deserve a name, at the least. It's not like we're asking for a meet and greet."

"It's _none of your business_." Enjolras repeats. "And that's all I will say on the matter. Can we _please_ talk about something else?"

Eponine sighs, nods, and opens her mouth to change the topic, but is cut off by Grantaire abruptly standing up and walking out. He's not exactly in storming out in a huff, but he's not a ray of sunshine, either. 

There's a moment of stunned silence, and then Enjolras mutters, "Shit..."

"Oooh." Courfeyrac says, eyes widening. Enjolras glares at him, but thankfully, he doesn't share his realisation with the class. 

"I'm going after him." Enjolras says with a sigh, standing up and glancing around for both their coats. "And then we'll probably go straight home. Goodnight."

There is a chorus of goodnights, and then Enjolras is on his way out the door, to hunt down his errant boyfriend and try and figure out what the hell he did wrong.

-

Enjolras does not catch up with Grantaire.

He walks four blocks in one direction, then turns around and walks six in the other, but he doesn't see Grantaire. Doesn't even catch a glimpse of his hair, or his jacket, or anything that even looks like his hair or his jacket.

He has no idea where Grantaire has gone, but presumes it to be the same place he vanished to earlier. If he ends up in hospital, someone will call. If he ends up at one of their friend's, someone will call.

Enjolras takes a deep breath, and turns around, starts walking to his- their- starts walking home.

He still has Grantaire's coat.

-

Grantaire doesn't come home at any point that evening, or that night, or the following morning.

Enjolras wakes up alone in bed. There are no notes in the kitchen, Grantaire's coat is still tossed over the back of the sofa where Enjolras had left it, Grantaire's shoes are still missing, and Grantaire's car keys are still sat innocently on the dining table.

Enjolras doesn't bother with breakfast before leaving for the office. He doesn't have much of an appetite.

-

It's four more days before Enjolras sees Grantaire again.

Enjolras is sick with worry, at this point. He was informed by Feuilly, halfway through the second day, that Grantaire is alive and well and incredibly pissed at him (he wouldn't tell Feuilly why, though, and Feuilly was just as confused as Enjolras is). 

He hasn't been sleeping, he's only been eating when Combeferre or Courfeyrac force him to, and he's done exactly nothing of worth. He can't concentrate, too distracted of thoughts of Grantaire dead in a ditch somewhere, Grantaire leaving him for good, Grantaire dying cold and alone and never giving Enjolras a chance to apologise.

Four days, the worst four days of Enjolras' life, and then Grantaire appears in the door of Enjolras' office.

Enjolras has to blink three times before he can be quite sure he's not hallucinating.

"You weren't at home." Grantaire says, accusingly.

It's ten o'clock at night. Usually, Enjolras is home by seven at the very latest. But home makes his teeth ache without Grantaire there. He was in the office until midnight yesterday, and he only left because Combeferre threatened to knock him out and drag him.

There's a long, torturous moment of silence, wherein Enjolras can't think what to say and Grantaire seems content to stare at him, accusing and expectant and so goddamn angry.

Enjolras still has no idea what he did.

"...I don't know what I did." He admits, because hey, anything's better than uncomfortable silence.

Grantaire sighs. "Of course you don't."

Grantaire is too far away. Grantaire needs to be much closer, so Enjolras can check him over and make sure he's fine and safe and really here and that he never does anything like this again because Jesus fucking Christ, Enjolras was _terrified_.

Enjolras doesn't beckon him over, though. It doesn't feel like the right thing to do.

He's pretty sure he's betrayed Grantaire's trust, somehow. He's certainly acting suitably stand-offish.

"I'm sorry, whatever it was." Enjolras says, in a quiet voice. "I didn't mean to do anything, I promise."

There is a drawn-out second where Grantaire continues to just _stare_ , and then suddenly he's blurting out, "Will you just break up with me already?"

Enjolras blinks.

"What."

"Get it over with!" Grantaire says, and God, he sounds... he doesn't sound angry, not quite, not exactly. Enjolras can't think how to describe his tone. 'Broken' comes closest. "Just, I disappear for five damn days and you apparently just continue working like you haven't even noticed, and you're so ashamed of me you can't even admit we're together to _Combeferre_ , and I'm ruining your political career, and why don't you just get rid of me already? What's taking you so long?"

"...Christ." Enjolras breathes. "Is that what this is about? You think I'm _ashamed_ of you?"

"Why wouldn't you be?" Grantaire asks, bitter and hurt. "You're... _you_ , beautiful and wonderful and you're going to change the world, and I'm a mess. I'm an alcoholic, I'm a cynic, I ruin everything I touch. I don't know how you can bear to look at me, let alone date me."

"Come here." Enjolras says, quietly. "God, Grantaire, get the fuck over here, do you even realise how much I've missed you? I was worried _sick_ , I haven't slept properly since you left and I've got no work done at all and I can't stand being home without you there and I couldn't stop thinking that any minute now the phone would ring and it would be the hospital, I was so fucking scared."

Grantaire crosses the room, and Enjolras stands up so he can wrap his arms around Grantaire and pull him close and press frantic kisses into his hair. Grantaire's alive, Grantaire's fine, Grantaire's self-esteem issues are trying to sabotage their relationship again, but it's okay, because Enjolras isn't going to let them.

"You are the best thing that has ever happened to me." Enjolras tells him. "I love you so much it terrifies me. And if I haven't told the press who you are yet, that's only because I wanted to ask you first. I wasn't about to out you to the world without your express permission, I'm not that insensitive."

"...Oh." Grantaire says, his words muffled by Enjolras' shoulder.

Enjolras lifts Grantaire's chin up with one finger, so he can look him in the eye. "I'd shout about you from the rooftops, if you'd allow it. Even if you ruin my political career. I don't give a flying fuck about my political career, as long as I have you. Understood?"

"Yeah." Grantaire's voice is full of wonder as he stares at Enjolras with wide eyes. "I get it."

"Good." Enjolras says, finally allowing himself to smile the way he's wanted to ever since he first saw Grantaire. "Now. Come home with me?"

-

"Can I do an official interview?" Grantaire asks the following lunchtime, as he walks into Enjolras' office like he has any official right to be there, carrying his sketchpad and what looks suspiciously like homemade sandwiches. 

Combeferre stares at him in confusion. "Why do you need to do an interview?"

"With the press." Grantaire clarifies. "The Guardian, preferably. I like the Guardian, even if they did mistake me for a Conservative."

Raising an eyebrow, Enjolras says, "I thought you hated the Guardian."

"I hate the people who read the Guardian." Grantaire says. "The actual paper could be worse."

He sits on Enjolras' desk, handing over the bag full of food. Sure enough, when Enjolras opens it, he finds two sandwiches, a piece of Courfeyrac's fabled coffee cake, and a bottle of lemonade. 

"I love you." Enjolras tells him. Grantaire laughs and rolls his eyes. 

"You know, I maybe wouldn't have crises of the heart if you said that for reasons other than when I make you sandwiches." He points out, but he's grinning good-naturedly. 

Combeferre still looks confused. "So I'm starting to jump to a conclusion here, and one of you two better actually explain before I say something stupid."

"Grantaire is my boyfriend." Enjolras says, simply. "He has been for two and a half years now. You probably owe Courfeyrac money."

"Bahorel, actually." Combeferre says. "He's the one who thought you two had gotten together before you became Prime Minister."

"Can I do an interview?" Grantaire repeats. "Please? I want to gloat to the national papers about my pretty politician boyfriend."

The look Combeferre gives him suggest that that maybe wasn't the best reason to give, but he's reaching for the phone, so Enjolras is pretty sure he's given in.

-

Grantaire gets to do his interview.

To his utter delight, he makes the front page. 

(Enjolras cuts it out and pins it to the fridge.)

**Author's Note:**

> i am [here](http://notquiteaghost.tumblr.com) on tumblr. if you liked this fic, please [click my pokefarm eggs](http://pokefarm.com/user/notquiteaghost).


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